Music: the Rhythm of the Soul

Taka Dhimi Taka taum” as he playfully won us over with his breathless music, I closed my eyes and sat there, wondering whether it was music that drove the whole world. If you hear closely you will hear it, a certain rhythm in each thing you do. I wrote to his rhythm yesterday, every word falling as his hand touched the tabla. Zakir Hussain really lit the stage on fire on the 18th of this month. His thought that music is…well, everywhere, is what has driven me forever to writing and singing. It is so inherent in us that sometimes we tend to drown it out in the noise of the world. But then at the end of every silent night, I hear it, this faint sound one thats etched into my soul. The one that is indeed mine to keep.

It doesn’t have to be a maestro, it could be a group of friends jamming in an open air theater without an audience or it could just be you, singing to yourself in the shower. Music, is everywhere, in your happiness and joy and in the depth of your sorrows.

I remember being sent to a music teacher when I was a mere 3 yr old and the pride of my father at telling people that I had been learning music since I was three! When I wanted to leave the classes, he had said, you may feel like you are wasting your time now, but when you grow older and…well wiser ūüôā you will realize how much you let yourself down.

I don’t really feel let down but I do feel I could’ve followed it better. Learning music is exactly how my teacher put it: it is a “Sadhana” that few in this world can truly follow and latent passions just mean you didn’t¬†recognize¬†the real passion when it was time.

But be it the happy joyful beat of the garbha or the sad soulful melodies of kishore kumar, Indian music has more to offer to the world than all of the world put together. This here is a tribute to the raga that fills every South Indian household and the taal and laya that fills every north Indian one. This here is a thought to the beauty of Indian music the one that makes you proud everytime one of us wins the Grammy.

We have more music in our souls than anyone else, all you have to do is find it!

Post Valentine’s Day special: Love is all around!

A visit to the hospital can give you more instances of love and its truths than an Archies showroom on a Valentine’s Day. I might be a bit morbid here (what’s new) but the truth is people don’t marry because they LIKE or even LOVE someone. It’s about finding just one person unrelated to you by blood for whom your life would matter just a little bit more than the million other strangers you pass by everyday.

Now, I understand the celebration of love is over. But this is a realization that happened today, just for a fleeting glimpse when everyone who loved someone sympathized with a worried wife. “I can actually understand what she’d be going through.”, my sister had said, “To have someone who means the world to you in the ICU.”

More morbid than the thought of actually being one of patients in hospitals (I’m shit scared of doctors!) is the thought of being the one holding the hand of someone who is sleeping through pain. It makes it worse to know they are in pain and you can do little about it except tell them it’ll go away….

Why do we do it, I wondered. Why in a corridor of white sobriety were 50 people crowded outside the ICU, waiting for that one hour when the visiting hours for the relatives are open. And why while we were asking her how he is, my worried cousin kept looking at her watch hoping to go back in to fully utilize the one hour just to watch her husband sleep to the lullaby of humdrum machines and powerful medication.

Everybody inside a hospital has a heart condition, the one that comes fleetingly disguised as a relieved smile at the end of a successful operation or even as a moment of intense anger (“why doesn’t he stop eating oily food when it’s not good for him?!) or a painful dejection at a loss of life.

So there you go, the moment you lose your faith in the goodness and love of the world, walk into the nearest hospital and you will realize that there are more relatives than patients in the vicinity of the ICU. Love, as they, is all around.

Post Valentine’s Day special: Love is all around!

A visit to the hospital can give you more instances of love and its truths than an Archies showroom on a Valentine’s Day. I might be a bit morbid here (what’s new) but the truth is people don’t marry because they LIKE or even LOVE someone. It’s about finding just one person unrelated to you by blood for whom your life would matter just a little bit more than the million other strangers you pass by everyday.

Now, I understand the celebration of love is over. But this is a realization that happened today, just for a fleeting glimpse when everyone who loved someone sympathized with a worried wife. “I can actually understand what she’d be going through.”, my sister had said, “To have someone who means the world to you in the ICU.”

More morbid than the thought of actually being one of patients in hospitals (I’m shit scared of doctors!) is the thought of being the one holding the hand of someone who is sleeping through pain. It makes it worse to know they are in pain and you can do little about it except tell them it’ll go away….

Why do we do it, I wondered. Why in a corridor of white sobriety were 50 people crowded outside the ICU, waiting for that one hour when the visiting hours for the relatives are open. And why while we were asking her how he is, my worried cousin kept looking at her watch hoping to go back in to fully utilize the one hour just to watch her husband sleep to the lullaby of humdrum machines and powerful medication.

Everybody inside a hospital has a heart condition, the one that comes fleetingly disguised as a relieved smile at the end of a successful operation or even as a moment of intense anger (“why doesn’t he stop eating oily food when it’s not good for him?!) or a painful dejection at a loss of life.

So there you go, the moment you lose your faith in the goodness and love of the world, walk into the nearest hospital and you will realize that there are more relatives than patients in the vicinity of the ICU. Love, as they, is all around.

The Death Foretold: Written for some closure :(

It starts as a lingering thought, like something is missing, and then suddenly the void dawns on me: it isn’t here. The source of my pride, the symbol of faith and then at the end of the day when the show ends there is silence, like there were none other. It threatens to live with you for the rest of your life and you really can do nothing about it.¬†
How were you in that spare moment able to take something so imperative in your life for granted? How could you in that moment stop looking where you were supposed to look? (a process so oft repeated it would almost be similar to breathing) and how in certain moments of vain glory over a game of Angry Birds would you have thought how unimportant this piece of gadget was for your life?!
I write this tribute in the loving memory of a ppiece of machinery that made me feel at peace with myself. So much that a single lost photograph or a favorite song seems like a painful reminiscence. I miss you my answer to my void, I miss you dearly and solemnly and while the world may blame greed or caprice and bad ways of the world to your demise. I know it was me, I didn’t look for that fleeting second and lost you forever, my friend, my guide, my android.
That first look we shared in the store would always remain by me, I know you will one day make a pirated store owner very proud, I also know that deep down, you would have wanted me to move on. So this here my friend is a final goodbye. (And for all those who say I whine, this is a final word, it’s just now, no more, nevermore!)